


Dream a little dream of me

by Bill_Longbow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, POV Bucky Barnes, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26525266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow
Summary: The Winter Soldier, freshly out of HYDRA's control, takes to spying on Steve Rogers and his many dates with Tony Stark. It quickly becomes his favorite sort of mission- fun, entertaining, nonlethal, not too difficult or painful. So he gets into the habit of silently stopping bad guys from crashing said dates without emerging from the shadows.Until he has to.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 38
Kudos: 198
Collections: Stuckony Summer Stocking 2020





	Dream a little dream of me

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [JacarandaBanyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacarandaBanyan/pseuds/JacarandaBanyan) in the [stuckony_summer_stocking_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/stuckony_summer_stocking_2020) collection. 



> Written for the wonderful prompt in the summary. 
> 
> It turned out a bit cracky, a bit angsty, a lot fluff.  
> Please note the Trigger Warning of unreliable narrator!
> 
> Thank you to Skye, cheerer extraordinaire! And to chaosform for betaing!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

There he is. Captain America. Steven Grant Rogers. Also known as the biggest pain in James' butt since his first shrill cry on this God forsaken planet. 

He's a little sketchy on the details, but in _a lot_ of his memories where Steven Grant Rogers features, James is certain he felt some kind of exasperation. 

Fond exasperation. Annoyed exasperation. Exasperated exasperation. A feeling of _what the everloving fuck_ so profound it could shake away the programming and help James escape.

At this moment though, Steve is sitting at a table that's too small to house his long legs -- _James clearly remembers stick thin legs that he needed to rub for warmth_ \-- flipping through the menu for the seventh time. 

Steve is always early for appointments. James knows this is because he's used to leaving home early to make up for any number of asthma attacks along the way. James also knows Steve is terrible at waiting, and will change position and fiddle with stuff non stop. 

This last isn't knowledge that slowly came creeping to the surface like so many of his memories do, lurking unseen and then suddenly snapping into his consciousness. No, this is acquired knowledge. 

After pulling Steven Grant Rogers from the murky depths of the Potomac, James' brain resembled something like scrambled eggs. He could barely tell up from down, and his nightmares played out in several different languages. There was no _him._ He didn't know what it was like to be a person anymore, couldn't survive without orders. 

All he knew was that there was this hulking blond man who resembled the sickly fae from his cryo dreams, and because he desperately needed some kind of mission he had taken it upon himself to shadow the man. 

James watches over the good Captain as he recovers in the hospital, and notices the comings and goings of his team. He moves with them to New York, where they find residence in the most ostentatious tower (James secretly loves), and he cons his way into an apartment close by. 

The longer he stays out of the ice the more he becomes a man again instead of a thing. With a name (James Barnes), dislikes (cold, bananas, people chewing gum, torture, Captain America), and likes (chocolate surprise eggs, the sun on his face when he wakes, the beep the register makes at the supermarket, going to the supermarket, memories of a tiny Steve). 

And James Barnes apparently has an unhealthy need to look out for Steven Grant Rogers, no matter his size. 

Which is why he's currently perched on a rooftop across the street, looking through the scope of his recently acquired Steyr, waiting for Steven Grant Rogers' date to arrive. 

His date is always late. His average late time is thirty one minutes and ten seconds. Once he was on time, but that was because they arrived together. Once he was late almost two hours, but Steve had gotten no less than three sympathy drinks out of it and James saw the waitress had been severely disappointed when Steve's date finally showed up. 

Today it's fifteen minutes and counting. Steve just starts on his second bread stick when there's movement on the roof next to James.

Not again. What is it with these villains that they can't let two lovebirds alone?

James gets up and sprints, jumping onto the next roof without making a sound. He's on the man before he's even opened the zip on his rifle bag, and James shoves his metal fingers between the man's teeth. Cyanide is all the rage these days, and James can't say he feels sorry he lets the man choke a bit as he rummages in his mouth, when across the street Steve beams as bright as the sun when Tony Stark arrives. 

James duct tapes the villain's mouth shut, and ties him up with a neat little bow, ready to hand over as soon as the date ends. 

With a satisfied nod, he climbs back to his perch.

\-----

_"Sorry…"_

_"Just hold your hand a little higher…"_

_Dust motes swirl lazily, caught by the golden light of an August evening sun. Stevie's hair almost glows, his eyes bright, the tip of his tongue shocking pink where he sticks it out in concentration as he counts the steps._

_It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss him._

_So easy, and so dumb._

_Bucky doesn't. He can't ruin this, can't live without Stevie in his life._

_He contents himself with what he has. Stevie's hands warm on his shoulder and hip. Stevie's smell tickling his nose._

\-----

This is getting ridiculous. Do they advert their dates on Villains R Us? 

This is the third time in a row someone has tried to crash a Steve/Tony date, and James is not amused. 

Instead of spying on the date, he now finds himself in some wannabe doctor Evil's hideout, clashing goons' heads together. 

"Where," _clang,_ "is," _clang,_ "your," _clang,_ "boss?" _clang._

He almost feels sorry for the goons when he eventually finds their so called leader, shitting his pants inside a file cabinet. You must be pretty desperate to pit yourself with a mangy bastard like this. 

With that weasel safely deposited on new-SHIELD's doorstep, James hurries back, just in time to witness Steve and Tony's awkward goodbye in the common room. 

James doesn't understand what is taking them so long to proceed to the next stage of their relationship. It's very clear -- to James -- that Steve is sad about it. There's this slant to his shoulders that screams disappointed resignation, just before Just A Rather Very Intelligent System makes the windows opaque and James loses his view. 

He needs more Intel. 

  
\-----  
  


It takes a few weeks -- and several raids of not so former Hydra bases (where he may or may not maim or kill everyone in his way) to obtain the equipment -- but then he has mics installed in all the usual places Steve and Tony visit. 

He's perplexed. 

They don't know they are dating. They're clueless. Of all the blind stupidity James has encountered in the century he walked this unholy earth, this ranks in the top ten. Top three even. 

The tactical-genius and the genius-genius are two of the dumbest people James knows. 

Clearly something has to be done. The sad face Steve wears whenever Tony isn't looking, grates on James' heart like a stun gun to his left arm. 

And now that he can _hear_ Tony in addition to just seeing him, James is starting to feel for him as well. Tony so obviously, totally, completely throws his whole self for grabs at Steve, _who does not get it at all._

They need an intervention. Luckily for them, James is good at interventions. If you can shoot the potus in broad daylight and frame someone else, a little get together between two pining lovers should be a piece of cake. 

\-----

It's not a piece of cake. 

Steve, the idiot, denies the flowers James has sent in his name to Tony during their afternoon walk are his, and pays the delivery guy to _take them away again_. Tony in the meantime, looks like someone kicked his puppy, and his puppy's puppy too. When Steve turns back -- blush so fiery James is tempted to upend a bucket of water over him -- Tony transforms his face back into something that resembles a smile if you don't look closely as they resume their walk. 

Every attempt there's something that screws it up. A pigeon craps on the handwritten letter James -- disguised as a waiter -- shoved under Steve's plate; the Avengers alarm goes off when they're at the movies where James changed the scifi action flick into a romcom. 

There is one promising moment when -- through some manipulation -- Steve and Tony end up on the roof terrace instead of inside the restaurant (all Stark's billions are worth nothing against a threat from the Winter Soldier). Soon Tony's teeth are chattering and Steve scoots close to offer him his jacket. James holds his breath when they smile so sweetly at each other and Steve holds onto Tony's shoulders longer than necessary. 

_"Kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss,"_ James chants under his breath, almost crawling through the scope to better see. 

Steve bends forward imperceptibly, Tony opens his lips just a fraction, and then the waiter comes up the stairs, trips over the threshold and throws the exquisite tomato lobster bisque into Tony's lap. 

The scene erupts in chaos and James briefly slumps down in defeat. On the other roof Steve tears off Tony's pants, not in the romantic way James had envisioned after tonight, but to check for burns, and proceeds to throw his soda over the already sodden genius.

It's the last straw. 

"I give up!" James yells as he stands up and throws his hands in the air. "I quit." 

Across from him everyone freezes -- the waiter and Steve at dapping ineffectually at Tony, Tony at ineffectually pushing them away -- to stare at him. 

"Bucky..?" Steve asks stupidly, and James feels aggravated enough to punch him if he was closer (a recurring emotion in just about all his memories that have resurfaced).

"No, it's murder Santa Claus," James yells and waves up and down his all black tactical gear. 

"Jesus fuck. Seventy years of torture and do you think I blew my cover even once? No! Never! It takes _your_ dimwittery. _Again."_

Tony pushes at Steve, and it makes the idiot giant jump into action and leap over onto James' roof to pull him into a bear hug. 

Well. 

That's awfully nice. 

Nice enough to not struggle, but instead slump into the hug. 

"You came back," Steve sighs, and tightens his hold when James doesn't pull away. 

"Well, duh. Could've known you wouldn't keep to your promise not to do anything stupid."

James feels Steve grin, and on the other roof Tony barks a laugh. "I like him…"

And like that James is adopted into Avengers tower. 

\-----

_His heart leaps when he comes home to Stevie balancing precariously on a kitchen chair, reaching into the highest corner of their living room slash bedroom slash kitchen slash dining room with a brush._

_Of course he shouldn't be happy. Misfortune is what drove Stevie here, not this desire that burns within Bucky with an intensity that scares him. Still, he can't help but feel a thrill at Stevie trying to make something of this situation, crafting a home for them together._

_He'll wake up to the sight of Stevie, and go to sleep with Stevie's cold feet pressed against his shins. Surely that's enough._

\-----

Anyone thinking James' mission -- everyone politely ignores James' outburst on the roof -- is easier now that he's living in close proximity, is sorely mistaken. 

Steven Grant Rogers plasters himself to James' side like a tick to a dog, except much more ~~beautiful~~ annoying. So much so, he all but completely ignores Tony, who reacts to this with the saddest pair of brave, puppy eyes James has ever seen. 

After one hundred and seventy three hours of this James snaps and punches Steve in the face. He has lived alone for the better part of a year, this hovering is bad for his already frayed nerves. Now Steve looks even sadder than Tony, a look which turns even worse when James tries to explain you don't sneak up on a brainwashed assassin. 

You would _think_ that being tortured for decades would give you something like calluses on your soul, but _no_ , James is as weak to that sad face as he ever was. 

Up close, watching Steve and Tony make happy moon eyes at each other certainly feels like daggers to his intestines, but it's better than _this._

"Maybe Tony can help," James offers as a last resort. If Steve is occupied with Tony again James can sneak away. And maybe kill some things. 

  
  
  


James can't sneak away. As soon as they cross the threshold of the lab he has a panic attack so bad he completely blacks out and wakes up on his back on the shittiest couch a billionaire can own, with Steve and Tony hovering above him. 

The dumb fucks should not be hovering over an unstable assassin like this, and it's his annoyance at this blatant disregard for their own safety that makes him snap out of whatever came over him. 

"Jesus. Coulda killed you both with one swipe. What is wrong with you?"

Steve and Tony share a Look James recognises, and does not care for. 

"Could but didn't, Tasty Freeze," Tony shrugs and rolls back a little way away on his chair now that the commotion has passed. 

"You would never," Steve says with conviction, and it makes James both feel warm and even more annoyed. He does not deserve the trust. Never has. And as always, Steve deserves something better. Like a billionaire, genius, philanthropist. 

"The arm always hurts," James states, ignoring Steve for now. If Steve is with James, and James wants him to be with Tony, then James needs a reason to be around Tony a lot. It's elementary. Everyone knows Tony Stark gets a hard on from any tech, so James' arm should provide an adequate excuse to stay down here. 

"I'm not touching that thing with a ten foot pole before I know what set you off."

James blinks at Tony. Tony looks back at James. Steve coughs. 

"You can restrain me," James offers. Sure, that will be horrible, but it's still within his mission parameters. His own comfort isn't important. 

"Yeah, not until after several dates and an elaborate kinks negotiation."

Steve coughs again and hides his face by turning away to rummage for something behind the couch. Still as smooth as gravel, the punk. 

"Look, Terminator. There's no way in the seven realms you'll find the same treatment here as with those Hydra snakes. No restraints, no pain, no panic," Tony counts on his fingers. 

From behind the couch Steve shoots Tony the most lovesick look imaginable, and James understands why. Tony elicits in James the same combination of annoyance and awe Steve does, together with something else James has no intention whatsoever to explore. 

"It's the light. And the cold," James says quickly, before his stupid brain makes some more stupid assumptions. 

"J, lower the lights with twenty five percent, and order throw blankets in every colour, and eight different textures."

"Certainly, sir."

The quiet voice marks a decrease in light intensity, and James feels himself relax a little. Going by the look between Steve and Tony they noticed too. 

"Usually there's music as well," Steve offers, and James is briefly struck by how well he seems to understand.

"Some Shakira, please, Jarvis," Tony grins and Steve shakes his head with an amused eye roll as he gives up on his pretense behind the couch and takes a seat again.

"It's the tools too," James continues, emboldened by how his confession seems to bring Steve and Tony closer. 

"The tools…" Tony asks, looking around the workplace. 

James nods. "The tools. They used them on all parts," he adds to clarify, and waves his hand to encompass his whole body. 

"J, cabinets, big ones," Tony orders in a rush, voice slightly higher than usual. Steve looks like he wants to crush James in another hug, but isn't sure he's allowed. 

Noted. Graphic allusions to torture are detrimental to mission success. 

"We can start with a scan. All you need to do is stand still. No need for any… tools."

James nods and stands up at attention, in an odd way relieved someone tells him what to do. 

"At ease, soldier," Tony quips. "This is a friendly get together between friendlies, not a mission."

Something passes over Steve's face at the mention of ‘mission’, and James clearly remembers Steve's battered face under his hands. Just another thing on James' list of things he's sorry for. 

_(Stevie coming home but refusing to look at him. Bent over in obvious pain._

_When he coaxes Stevie to look up, he startles at the state of Steve's face. One side is a muddled black and blue, eye swollen completely shut._

_"You shoulda seen the other guy, Buck…")_

  
  


James shakes his head to force the unbidden memory away, and ignores how both Steve and Tony look at him as he drops into parade rest. 

"Come on, Bronco. Shake those hips, you know they don't lie," Tony teases, a fraction too late, and Steve turns red again. 

"Tones…"

"Yes, Steven?"

"Preliminary scanning done," J.A.R.V.I.S. informs them before they erupt in bickering. 

"Great! Steve, why don't you introduce Buckaroo to the bots while I look at those. Dummy's been giving us a sad camera face ever since you arrived."

Tony waves at the corner of the workshop where a metal contraption is wearing a scarf and is waving with a football, next to one who is busy sorting screws.

“Dummy!” Steve greets the strut on wheels, and the thing comes trundling forwards, making happy beeping sounds.

“Buck, this is Dummy, Tony’s first born,” Steve beams at Bucky. “Hey buddy.” He pats Dummy gently on his camera. Behind him, Tony looks at Steve like he just declared world peace while shitting sparkly rainbows, and James files this information away for later. Bots might be of use to the mission.

“Hello,” James says carefully, and notices the name on the strut. _DUM-E, not_ Dummy. He hasn’t ever met a robot like Dum-E, and he’s not sure what to make of him. Dum-E chirps and puts down his ball, so he can gently prod at James’ metal hand. James’ first reaction is to rip the pincer off the strut, but he is here for a reason and refrains.

“Sergeant Barnes, Dum-E asks if sir has created you,” J.A.R.V.I.S. suddenly asks, “because you have a metal arm as well.”

It startles a laugh out of Steve, and James clenches his jaw against the feeling of joy it elicits deep within him. 

"You're metal arm buddies," Steve chuckles.

"Sir has not," James turns to address the bot's camera. "I was created by Winifred and George Barnes, Dum-E Stark."

The bot chirps what sounds like an affirmative, and picks up his ball to wave it in James' face. 

"You want to play with the ball?"

At James' question the robot beeps and twirls around in joy, and James smiles involuntarily. The second bot comes closer too, but gives the impression it half hides behind Dum-E.

"Hey you," Steve smiles and waves at the second bot, who chirps softly and rolls a little closer to Steve. "Done with your chore?" This elicits more exciting beeping, and Steve laughs. 

"Sure I'll come and look, but first say hi to Bucky, okay?"

The second bot waves briefly at James, before grabbing Steve's shirt and pulling him along to where it was working. 

Dum-E waves the ball more insistently in James' face, so he turns his attention back to him (it?). 

"Okay, Dum-E Stark. We can play ball."

  
  
  
For the first time since he's regained his sense of self, James loses time. He gets immersed in the game, and at one point he finds himself actually laughing. It's such a foreign sensation, James startles and fumbles the catch. 

Both Steve and Tony look up to stare at him, and James recognises something similar in their gazes, which he resolutely ignores. 

"I'm done playing," he states, and quickly leaves the workshop before anyone can stop him, ignoring ~~Stevie~~ Steve calling after him. 

In the elevator, James tries to make sense of all the emotions warring within him. He's not here for himself. He's here to finally get Steven Grant Rogers and Anthony Edward Stark to kiss and be happy together forever. When they are, James can leave with a peaceful mind. There are always more Hydra bases to raze, Nazis to punch in the nose with his metal fist, and new flavours of KitKat to sample. 

He's most definitely not here to enjoy himself and quietly wish he could always stay. It doesn't matter what Bucky used to want _(kiss Stevie senseless after cleaning up his battered face, ask him to be with Bucky and never leave_ ), because Bucky is dead and Stevie is Steve now. 

Not to mention billionaire, philanthropist geniuses who like _perfect_ super soldiers, not their metal limbed, knock off serumed, brainfucked childhood buddies. 

  
  


\-----

It gets worse. 

Steve and Tony date nights are now Steve and Tony and James date nights. Though James is the only one who calls it that, he has a sneaking suspicion that the Widow and the archer have some kind of betting pool going. Instead of helping his cause, the jerks suggest increasingly romantic spots they should visit as the three of them. If James manages to get away from Steve, it's Tony who comes to collect him before they depart. There's no way to keep himself apart. 

James' lists of likes and dislikes get longer every day. 

Dislikes: That way Natalia smiles like she knows everything and she probably does which is the most annoying aspect, sushi, breathing while eating wasabi, everything about Steven Grant Rogers and Anthony Edward Stark, pigeons (don't ask).

Likes: Laughing, Steve looking cross eyed when Tony makes a Firefly reference, Firefly, Tony looking cross eyed when Steve pretends he likes captain Archer best, no more pain in left arm and shoulder, watching Tony tinker, watching Steve watching Tony tinker, Steve's new stealth suit, Iron Man, Dum-E, Dum-E pretending he's dumb to make Tony laugh, Tony laughing, Steve laughing, Steven Grant Rogers, Anthony Edward Stark. 

James is royally fucked. 

\-----

Perhaps he should stop fighting it? 

James is sitting on a bench across the bakery where they'll meet in fifteen minutes. Or more accurately, where Steve will arrive in the next fifteen minutes and Tony anywhere between twenty minutes and two hours from now. 

James likes to be first. He has staked out the area, satisfied that there are no bad guys planning nefarious deeds, and whispered a suggestion to the baker to make sure there are enough double chocolate banoffi doughnuts (Steve's favourite) and white chocolate eclairs (Tony's favourite) on hand. 

It's a lovely day; not too warm, but nice enough to go without a jacket. To add to the like list: watching kids playing football, and the new cotton glove for his left hand Tony gifted him yesterday. 

_"Желание."_

Every muscle in James' body is suddenly strung taught like he's being electrocuted, and he looks around with mounting panic to search for the source of the word. 

_"Ржавый."_

_No no no no no no no no no no no no no!_

There's no one behind him, which means they're somehow transmitting to him and he doesn't kn--

_"Семнадцать."_

He starts to run, covering his ears with both hands. _Away,_ he has to get away. 

_"Рассвет."_

_Please no, please stop, please, please, please._ Panic makes it impossible to think, impossible to breath, as he sinks to his knees on the pavement to cradle his head to his chest. 

_"Печь."_

With every new word James feels like he's losing part of himself. Every lousy inch he painstakingly recovered is threatened to blow away like soot after a fire, and there's nothing he can do. All that awaits is _pain pain pain._

_"Дев--"_

The sound of repulsors overhead accompany the word being cut short, along with the feeling of a cattle prod to his chest. 

_Please no please no please no please no pl--_

Suddenly he's enveloped by the strongest arms on earth, pulled tight against Steve's chest. 

" _Bucky?_ Can you… are you okay? Bucky, please…"

Steve sounds like he's crying, and it pulls James from his panic enough to look up. 

"Stevie," he croaks, half surprised he still can. "Not safe..."

_("I'm your friend."_

_"You're my mission!")_

"Ssh." Steve wipes tears from James' cheek he never realised he'd shed, with a tenderness that breaks James' heart again. 

"You're safe now, Bucky, we've got you, we've got you." Stevie rocks them as he tries to soothe James, but he can't, he never can. Not with the anchors to those words still lodged somewhere in James' head. 

But it's too much. He's vulnerable now like he wasn't before. The first words stripped him of his inhibitions -- or maybe it's the relief none more are coming -- and he sobs and sobs as Steve holds him tight. 

A second pair of hands join Steve's in holding James, some silent conversation going above his head. Tony’s hand -- it can’t be anyone else but Tony -- stroking James soothingly along his back.

“Do you think we can take you home, Snowflake?” Tony asks, voice as gentle as his hands when James' breathing has become more regular again.

_Home._

The little word hurts. It’s everything James wants and might’ve pretended for a while to have, but he can’t anymore.

He shakes his head, and pushes against Steve’s chest to sit up. 

“Don’t worry, take your time, cupcake, there’s no rush,” Tony soothes James, but he doesn’t understand.

“You don’t understand! I'm not safe, I'm never safe to be around!" Instead of agreeing like sensible human beings, James sees both Steve and Tony are gearing up to argue with him, and it needs to stop. 

"You should kiss," he states firmly, clinging to his mission like a drowning man to a raft. 

There's more non verbal communication going on between Steve and Tony that James doesn't understand, but which sparks a sliver of hope James might finally be released from this hell. 

But then something happens James didn't even dare imagine in the privacy of his own head. Steven Grant Rogers bends forward to gently press his lips to James' cheek, close to the corner of his mouth. 

James had a stroke. It's the only explanation. The trigger words triggered an aneurysm and now he's hallucinating or in a coma. 

He almost giggles when Tony does as Steve and presses a kiss to James' other cheek. The way Tony and Steve smile at him like they always secretly smile at each other only adds to the sensation his brain finally snapped and he's wandering la la land. 

"Now you fellas," James orders, because even in his hallucination he wants the best for Steve and Tony, and that's undeniably each other and not him. 

He could coo at the shy smile Steve and Tony give each other -- and with the way they both shoot him a glance he probably did. They aren't deterred, though. Achingly slow they move closer until their lips meet in a chaste, but oh so sweet kiss. 

"Son of a bitch!"

 _What?_ James looks up to see Clint looking chagrined, with a gloating Nat right behind him. 

"Congratulations, you three," Natalia says, looking genuinely pleased -- an expression foreign enough to cement James' hallucination theory, until he notices Clint handing over money to Bruce. 

“ _You_ were in on it?” James asks, incredulous.

“In on what? What’s going on?” Tony looks up to narrow his eyes at his teammates, but Steve barely looks away from James. Because it's not real anyway, James smiles back as wide as he feels like. 

_"Buck,"_ Steve chokes out, just as Nat hands Bruce a wad of cash she hid who knows where. 

"You had a bet going on us?" Tony sounds a mixture of incredulous and smug, but instead of pursuing this he shakes his head and looks back at James and Steve. “Never mind, don’t wanna know. I just wanna take these _fellas,”_ he winks at them at the word, “home.”

 _“Best_ fellas,” Steve supplies with a wink of his own. Had this not been all James’ fantasy he would’ve been suspicious at the sudden change of heart from both men. As it is he shrugs it off and enjoys it. Who knows when his brain will have recovered and he is thrown back to whatever hellhole his body is currently in.

“Sorry we weren’t here sooner,” Steve suddenly says with that sincere face of his, breaking James’ reverie.

“Jarvis warned us immediately when your phone was hijacked,” Tony continues, looking just as contrite. “You’re never going out with any other tech than mine, you hear?” 

James nods, because it seems that’s what Tony is waiting for. Tony’s answering smile is as pretty as the sun.

“There’s still a lot to talk about,” Tony shrugs, “with the…” he waves vaguely between the three of them, and it makes James pause. He’s pretty sure he would never fantasize a talk about feelings. 

“Maybe not on the sidewalk, boys?” Natalia reminds them pleasantly, and it shakes Steve awake. He ever so carefully helps James to his feet, and doesn’t let go once James is standing, instead escorting him to the waiting quinjet. Tony slots against James’ other side, and they don’t let go of him once inside. Nor when they get to the tower. Nor when they enter Tony’s penthouse apartment. 

It all feels awfully real, but pretending he could wake up from this gives James the ability to say out loud all the things he feels about the other two, and the smiles and blushes he gets in return are the best thing since mounted scopes.

"Too bad it's all my imagination," James sighs where he's resting his head against Tony's shoulder. They're huddling on the couch together, waiting for Steve to come back with the lunch they skipped when James was attacked. 

"Your imagination?" Tony chuckles, pressing a kiss to James' forehead. 

"Yeah," James nods. "It would've been so nice if this was real…"

"Wait, you think this isn't real?"

James has trouble deciphering Tony's look as he shrugs his confirmation. 

"I'm not sure what to say to that," Tony says after studying James. "A point could be made that nothing is real, shadows in a cave and all that, but I got a feeling you don't mean it in the philosophical sense…" Tony huffs a laugh his eyes don't share, and James feels sorry he blurted it out. Tony's eyes should always shine. 

"Why _do_ you think this isn't real, sweet murder muffin?"

James smiles at the nickname, but turns sober and looks away. He doesn't like to hurt Tony, not even pretend-Tony. 

"It's my brain. They scrambled it one too many times. With the words? It just went _poof."_ James makes an explosion gesture with his right hand. 

Tony nods silently, idly scratching James' scalp as he thinks. "Does it matter?" he asks after a minute, his smile a tentative and brittle thing. 

It takes James off guard, and he takes his time to process the question, just like Tony took his. 

"Guess not," James finally answers, because it really doesn't. He's happy now in a way he's never been, why fight that?

"Okay then," Tony smiles, genuine and warm, and their lips meet just as the elevator announces Steve's reappearance with their lunch. 

And it really doesn't matter. 

But the thing is… he never _wakes up._


End file.
